The Prince and Persephone
by Thistle Berkley
Summary: A retelling of the traditional Beauty and the Beast fairy tale. Please review. Seriously.
1. The Transformation of Tristan Hugh

The blizzard was growing increasingly worse, but Tristan, nestled into the overstuffed chair and draped in his mother's old blanket, hardly noticed. The storm banged on the outer walls of the castle, but the young prince was too preoccupied with his flickering reflection in the mirror hung above the fireplace to hear it. He was captivated, as he usually was, by the perfection of his face: his dark hair that curled to his ears, his wide black eyes set high on his face, the conceit of his brow, the perfect curl of his lips as he smirked at the glass. He considered his pride and vanity as virtues and wore them well.

He was suddenly broken from his reverie by a servant rushing into the room. Names were meaningless to Tristan, especially those of who were beneath him. He grudgingly motioned for the servant to approach his chair, internally cringing at the thought of this audience being necessary. He longed for his previous solitude.

"Sire," the servant breathed at Tristan's feet, "there is a visitor at the door."

Tristan rolled his eyes and let out a sharp breath. "Order them away." He was not in the mood for entertaining.

"She won't be ordered away," the servant replied, a little too quickly and sharply for Tristan's taste. His patience was wearing thin.

"She? A woman? You expect me to believe that you cannot dismiss a common girl? Order her away." Tristan waved his arm, gesturing for the servant to leave.

But the servant didn't move from Tristan's feet; instead, he bowed lower and stared at the floor. "Sire, there is something about her…I do not think we should force her to go away." A pit of rage bubbled in Tristan's stomach. How dare this idiot offer advice to the next king? His hands clenched into fists and his lips pressed together.

"I don't care," Tristan growled through his gritted teeth, "if she is Aphrodite. I want her gone."

The servant seemed to take a deep breath and shook his head. "I…can't do that. Sire." The fiery ball in Tristan's stomach burst into flames and suddenly he found himself out of his chair and towering over the frightened man. He grabbed the back of the servant's hair and wrenched his head off the floor.

"_I_ am your king," he whispered menacingly in the servant's ear before he slammed the man's face into the white marble floor. He stalked to the door, ignoring the quiet whimpers of the servant.

He navigated through the dark corridors of his castle quickly and surely, intent on forcing the headstrong woman at the doors to leave. His temper flared again when he saw his servants gathered together in the front hall. They surrounded a wrinkled old hag dressed in simple rags who clutched a single red rose tightly in her hand.

"How dare you allow her to enter," Tristan bellowed from across the room. He quickened his steps and watched with reserved amusement as his servants shrank away from the ugly woman. He grabbed one of the maids by her arm and twisted her around to look him in the face.

"Why?" he growled.

"M-m-master, please, have mercy. She's cold and ill. Just for the night, please, sire, let her stay."

"I will do no such thing!" He heaved the maid aside as he advanced toward the undesirable hag. "You," he screamed, pointing a shaking finger in her direction, "are not welcome here. I command you to leave at once."

"Young prince," the old woman begged, dropping to her knees, "please, have pity on me. I have been walking all day, and the storm is so cold."

"Pity is for the weak." Tristan grabbed the woman by her thin dress and dragged her towards the door.

Suddenly, he found he could not move his hand anymore, and the woman slipped away from him and started to float towards the ceiling. A strange wind blew from the hallways, whipping at the hair of those who stood in the great room. The old woman's face started to glow and change, until her features dripped away to striking and beautiful features, and her tattered garments became a flowing green gown that poured down her slender body and covered her hovering feet. She had become so beautiful that Tristan could not tear his eyes away.

"Tristan Hugh," the woman cried in her charming tone, her voice reaching all corners of the castle, "your heart is cold and beastly. Therefore, I am justified in the placing of this curse. From this day forward, your outward appearance will reflect your inward cruelty. You will be a beast, inside and out."

The moment the words were uttered, Tristan felt his body burst into flames. The heat coursed through his veins painfully, reaching everywhere. The fire licked his feet and his hands, consuming them in the flames. His terrified screams echoed through the empty castle and he doubled over onto the floor.

Through the overbearing temperature, Tristan felt his bones crunch and expand. His face and limbs grew at least three times larger and he felt thousands of tiny hairs, like burning needles, burst from every part of his body. His nails grew suddenly and became claws while his teeth became fangs. Tristan lay on the ground, writhing in agony, until finally the transformation was complete.

The room was silent and his servants were huddled in a corner, staring at his weak body in horror. Tristan opened his heavy eyelids slowly and his dark eyes flicked around the room. Finally, he focused on his hands, curled uncomfortably on the cold, stone floor. He let out a soft sob when he realized they were more like paws than hands. His stomach churned as his eyes wandered down to his feet, taking in the tremendous, hairy creature he had become.

"Please," Tristan pled, never moving from his position on the floor, "have mercy." His eyes welled up with tears and he his body started to tremble in fright. To die in this body, to exist forever as a monster, was unthinkable.

"Why?" the woman cried, her shill laugh piercing Tristan, "when you have shown none to me?"

"Please," Tristan whispered, a single tear dripping down his furry face. He held no hope and could think of no other reason for living.

The woman seemed to contemplate this for a moment before she started to speak. "Alright, Tristan. You shall remain in this body unless a beautiful young maiden will agree to marry you as the beast you are. She must never know your secret, or the curse will never be lifted."

Tristan felt nothing but dread course through him. Who would ever marry _him_ as he was now? It was hopeless; life was meaningless, he was better off dead.

"And another thing," the woman recalled, "you will not be able die until you find this girl. Once the curse is lifted, this immortality will be as well.

"This rose," she continued, lifting the ruby flower in her hand, "must never leave this castle. If it does, the maiden will never come to you, and you will remain in this form until the end of time. Keep it always close to you." She threw it down to Tristan's trembling body and giggled another cruel laugh. His eyes were back on the levitating woman, watching as she thought out his punishment.

"You will be allowed to keep your servants," she decided suddenly, thoughtfully tapping her finger against her perfect chin, "but you won't be allowed to see them. They will be invisible whispers, ghosts roaming the halls…yes, that should do quite nicely…"

Her eyes flickered down to Tristan's pathetic body and a flawless grin spread across her face. "This is quite fun!" she giggled again.

Then she was gone. The only evidence that she had existed was the rose, a drop of blood on a stem, Tristan's twisted shape, and the absence of the servants. All else remained the same.


	2. The Misfortunes of Persephone Reede

The scratchy sheets pulled on Persephone's legs, holding her back from getting out of bed. She let them have their way for a little while, but soon the thought of her new morning chores overpowered her wish for more sleep. She kicked the adhering blankets roughly off her legs, shuddering at the sudden chill, and grabbed her slate colored dress from where it was laying on the footstool. She slapped her feet on the chilly wood flooring and padded into the hallway. She allowed her eyes to dip closed for a few seconds at a time while she trudged into the mending room, a small closet where she would sit and do the tedious mending.

"Sef," her father called when the floorboards squeaked under her small foot, "Coming down for breakfast?"

She sighed and then replied, "Yes, Father."

As she walked back to her room, she thought of her life before this farm. She thought back to the pile of books stacked in her old wide room that overlooked the dock by the bay; she could almost smell the pages of those books interlacing with the smell of the ocean and the afternoon tea as she shut her ugly, thick wooden door. She could still feel the coolness of the smooth tiled floor as she stood glumly by her mangled bed a local townsman had crudely carved. She could still hear her sisters talking about the last ball they had gone to, while her father sat beside the crackling fire, half reading his paper and half listening to them chatter on. How many times in that late afternoon had she wished her life was more like a fiction novel and had hoped for something exciting to happen?

And though her life was quickly disrupted by an event of exhilarating proportions, it wasn't exactly the excitement Persephone was looking for. They lost everything they owned in the untimely occurrence of terrible luck and her father's inability to manage money.

Her father was the owner of the largest trading company in the city, and possessed three townhouses, one country mansion, four carriages and quite a few horses. He depended too much on his fleet of ships, however, and though Persephone's mother warned him that not investing any of their fortune was a terrible mistake, he brushed her worries away, claiming he had the best of luck.

It all happened simultaneously. First, her father had the brilliant idea to load his three most expensive ships with his most expensive cargo and to send each in a separate direction captained by each of his sons. Then a devastating storm hit her father's waiting fleet at the dock and left them only with the other three out at sea. That very same day, cholera somehow snuck into their house and Persephone's mother passed away quickly. Their large shop by the dock was burned to the ground by a group of radicals, and the bank foreclosed on two of the three townhouses and the country house. Then her father got word that the same storm that took out his harbored fleet sunk the other three, sucking them down to where Poseidon meets Hades.

Persephone had never seen her father look so hopeless. He grasped for any family ties, but they were all dead. Finally, he had received a letter from his late wife's nephew who owned a small farm about a two-month's journey from the city. The letter had said that the farm was theirs to use, should they choose this option. Because of the obvious lack of any other choice, her family decided to pack up and do the unthinkable: live in poverty with peasants. One of her father's friends braved the gossip the day they left to offer his condolences and lend their family his carriage. He also made a last minute decision to give Persephone his prized horse, Thor.

"We can't take him," her father had said to Luke, "He's your livelihood."

Luke shook his head and nodded back to the stables, "Nonsense, Danu's just as good as Thor. I don't need two strong horses."

After that, he didn't argue, considering they did need the horse more than Luke did. Two hours later, they packed the little they still owned onto their borrowed carriage and drove off into the sunset, with Persephone in the back with her two sisters and her father at the reigns.

After riding no longer than three minutes in silence, Persephone's sisters had turned their snobby faces to her simple dress and both tsked at the same time.

"Sef, don't you know how to dress for traveling?" Eris had asked her impatiently.

Aello nodded in agreement. "Couldn't you at least keep one pretty dress?"

Persephone shifted in her set and focused on the landscape slowly rolling by her window, her book clutched tightly in her hands. Her timid movement caused both sisters to look down to her lap and roll their eyes at her persistent reading.

Persephone was always known as the humble one, but just hearing it caused her to cringe internally. She wasn't humble; she just didn't broadcast her discomfort as loudly as Eris and Aello. Her father couldn't handle three moaning daughters, especially now.

People also said that she was the prettiest of the three, but she didn't understand how they made their distinction. Her sisters were just as beautiful as she was, if not more so. Plus each of them was courted by at least four counts at a time, and both were engaged to famously wealthy men. Oddly enough, when the financial crisis hit, the engagements were quickly broken.

The gossip and rumors of Persephone and her beauty and modesty didn't sit well with her sisters, who were both full of conceit. Each saw herself as more attractive than the other two, and thus were understandably jealous when counts still wanted to court Persephone even after the family lost their fortune.

Given this, the two-month trip left much to be desired. The constant bickering between Eris and Aello dramatically increased when they were forced to spend every waking moment with each other. Persephone sat in a contented silence through the entire trip, which hardly bothered her sisters. The less they heard from her, the happier they were.

Once they finally reached their long-anticipated destination, a burly young man stepped out of the small two-story, brick house.

His youthful face was framed by big brown curls. Blue eyes peered out under the long locks. His smile made small but prominent dimples on the sides of his face. The brown skin was set off by the stained white shirt. Persephone heard one of her sisters give him a sigh when he smiled at their family.

Her father climbed down from his position at the reins and shook hands with the big man.

"Jonathan," he exclaimed, shaking her father's hand with as much force as he could muster.

Her father smiled gently, "Your letter came at a very opportune time, fate, I think, finally decided to smile on us. Let me introduce you to my daughters," he had said and motioned behind him. "This is my oldest, Eris," Eris gave him a small wave and dipped into a shallow curtsy, "Next to her is Aello…" who bowed her head, bored, as their father moved on to Persephone, "And my youngest, Persephone," Persephone dipped her head and held on to the book in her hands.

The cousin smiled a crinkly eyed smile, "Hello, ladies, I'm Adam. It'll be nice to have some women around here."

"Glad we're here," cooed Eris as she swung her clasped hands in front of her.

Aello scoffed, which she attempted to cover by coughing, not wanting to fall out of favor with her elder sister. Eris shot her a quick glance, but instantly turned her gaze back to Adam.

Their cousin ushered everyone in, carry most of Eris's bags, enchanted by her flaunted figure. Their father carried most of Aello's, leaving Persephone to carry in her two suitcases of clothes. Once she had put those in her makeshift room, she skipped back down stairs and outdoors. She untied Thor from the carriage and took him back to the stables. She sang to him while she washed him down, as she had done so many other times for Luke.

It was now a month later and very few things had changed. Her sister, Eris, was engaged to Adam, which didn't surprise anyone, while Aello caught the attention of the village men. Persephone was not allowed to leave the small house, a rule instated by her two jealous sisters. They left her alone for the most part, only talking to her when something needed to be done. The only source of conversation was either Adam or her father.

Adam taught her everything he could about gardening and working in the fields, but most of his days were spent with Eris, planning the wedding. He claimed that after the wedding, he'd be out in the fields working too, but Persephone found that very hard to believe. Persephone's father kept his eye on Aello when he was not with Eris, and so much of his time was taken up. Mornings and evenings were the only momentss he found time with Persephone.

During the early nights, she heard her sisters chatting softly in the kitchen while Adam did the emasculating choir of cleaning up. Persephone felt at home, reading late into the nights by candle light. She could hear the night birds outside her window where a long dead rose vine gripped the stone.

She would envision what those roses looked like when they were in bloom, trying to imagine the feel of the flower on her skin and the smell saturating her senses. She would smile at the thought of some rubies out side her room on green glass stems, and if she thought that if she were ever lucky enough to revive the vine, she would open the window every morning and absorb their beauty.

But the vine was dead, and Persephone didn't know enough about gardening to revitalize the poor thing. There was a garden, but that was only for vegetables to be sold in the village, which she was forced to tend in the afternoons. Thus, she was usually the only one at home after her family ate lunch (which she made), so whenever a message came, she was the first to read it.

One such afternoon, she was pulling some very stubborn weeds from the hard, dry ground. She was frustrated that her family left her, again, to go shopping in the village, and tears streamed quietly down her face. She suddenly felt someone tap on her shoulder and she whirled around, expecting it to be a sister or her father. Instead, it was a messenger patiently holding a letter towards her.

Persephone took it solemnly and watched as the messenger left. She looked down at the familiar seal and felt her heart leap as she recognized the scroll on the back. It was from one of her brothers, casually informing the family that his ship made it back with some of its cargo. Her father was to come to town to get the money from his ship. Persephone waited until dark for her family to come back.

"Father," Persephone said to him when he stepped in the door, "A letter came for you."

"Goodness, child," he smiled at her, "Let me catch my breath."

He reached for the letter and opened it, grinning a little when he saw that the seal was already broken. He laughed heartily and threw his fist down on the table where they were sitting.

"I knew I raised good boys!" he bellowed, rocking dangerously back in his chair.

He danced around the table, grabbing each of his daughters and spinning them around in the air. Eris and Aello laughed with confusion and happiness. Persephone smiled at her father.

"Oh, Father, do tell us what's going on!" giggled Aello as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Their father smiled bigger and spread his arms out wide, "Erilo's ship came back to the harbor, carrying almost all of his cargo. He sent a message," he waved the paper around in the air, "saying that I should come back and get the money from the ship."

Both sisters looked at each other and smiled. They jumped around the kitchen with their father, singing brightly. Persephone looked up at them, smirking softly, and nodded. Adam clapped his hands and looked at Persephone.

Persephone cleared her throat, "When will you leave, Father?"

He became thoughtful, "Next week, I think. And I shall bring all of you gifts from the city!"

Aello and Eris squealed. Eris pulled Adam up from where he was sitting down and swirled him around in a circle.

"Oh, Father!" cried Aello while she dance around him. "What will I choose?"

"I know what I want!" squealed Eris, raising her hand a little, "I want a big, beautiful dress made with golden fabric and black velvet! I will be the envy of every woman!"

Her father smiled, "You already are!" he chuckled gently.

That set off another round of laugher. Aello, with tears in her eyes, tried to catch her breath.

"I want," Aello tired to say, "the biggest gems! Rubies, emeralds, pearls, amethyst…all of them, all in necklaces!"

"Of course!" cried their father. "And for Persephone, what can I bring back my pet?"

Persephone blushed with the attention of everyone in the room. She shook her head, "Oh, nothing for me. I have all I want," she smiled up at her loving father.

Aello snorted, "Nonsense, nobody can have everything they want."

To please her already loathing sisters, she tried to think of something that wouldn't cost their family fortune, "Well…maybe a rose."

"One dress for the beautiful Eris, necklaces for perfect Aello, and a rose for lovely Persephone!" their father said with a broad smile and laugher bubbling up from his stomach.

During the next week, their small house was full of hectic chaos. Persephone got Thor ready for his long trip, and spent most of her days singing him songs of the city and reminding him that they would be together again soon.


	3. The Indiscretions of Jonathan Reede

Jonathan Reede left early that morning in silence, hoping to somehow dislodge the growing unease he felt about this four-month trip. Though he had no reason to feel any sort of apprehension, he had been dreading this day for the past week. It wasn't the trip back to the city that bothered him, nor was it the few weeks he had arranged for himself in town. It was the idea of traveling home in the middle of winter with very little knowledge of the forest that surrounded their new home.

He made sure no one heard him leave the house or hitch up Thor, who Persephone had graciously lent him. He couldn't bear goodbyes, and to be honest, he was too edgy to smile and act brave. He eased Thor out onto the small dirt road and started quietly towards the city.

.o.O.o.

The trip didn't take nearly as long as he had planned and was just as uneventful as he had anticipated. He arrived in the city near the end of September, just as the leaves were starting to change colors and float down to the ground. He was welcomed back graciously enough, though he suspected most of his past friends were a little anxious about his being there. A man as unlucky as he was couldn't possibly be a good addition to the social scene.

He met up with Erilo as soon as he could, and was dismayed to find that most of the cargo had already been sold to those merchants he owed money. His depression worsened when he realized he had barely enough money to feed himself, let alone buy the expensive gifts for Eris and Aello. His stay in the city was becoming less pleasurable by the second.

It was with subdued despair that he decided to leave in a week rather than the month that he had planned. He accepted the few invitations for dinner he received from polite merchants and ignored the snide remarks from the others. He stayed with Erilo in the tiny apartment his son rented, but became more certain of his early departure daily.

"Must you leave so soon?" Erilo asked him one evening while they sat by the fire. Jonathon stared at the flickering flames as he tried to think of some compelling arguments.

"Yes," he finally whispered. Then something Erilo had said sunk in. "You're not coming?" He was appalled at the thought of spending more time away from his son after believing him dead for so long.

"No…I'm needed here. You still have some outstanding affairs that need to be tied up, and if Ler or Pallas return, I think they'd like some family ties here in the city."

Though Jonathan could find no problem with this train of thought, his heart still clenched at the thought of leaving his son.

"Of course…yes. I understand. You're right." He continued muttering as he stared back into the fireplace. The rest of the night was silent.

The next cold morning he spent the last of his money on as much food as he could, but it was still not enough to sustain him through his two-month journey. A knot formed in his stomach as he considered his nonexistent options. He hoped that something would smile kindly on him and allow him to get home.

The moment he left the city, everything fell apart. When they were a little more than five miles out, they were hit by a terrible thunderstorm. Then another one ravaged the road a few days later, causing Thor to have trouble finding his footing in all the mud. When they tried to find rest, a group of roaming bandits stole Jonathan's extra clothes and some food. About a week later, they were stopped by a band of gypsies and were given some food in exchange for some more of his clothing. When they finally left after a few days, the only things he owned were on his back. They were almost three months behind schedule, by Jonathan's calendar, when they reached the forest.

They stepped into the trees, almost certain that nothing could get worse, and were hit by a freezing wind that chilled Jonathan to the core. Even with the extra coat he stole from a sleeping traveler on the side of the road, his extremities went numb within seconds. His face felt as if it had frozen into a mask of fear and pain. The despair grew almost unbearable and Jonathan wanted nothing more than to break down into tears, but it seemed to be too cold for his tear ducts.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, save the chilly weather, snow started blowing around Jonathan and Thor. Soon the world turned white and he couldn't see farther than a foot in front of his face. The ground began to freeze and ice came down in sheets, somehow masked in the swirling snow. Though he had no idea where he was, Jonathan pushed Thor forward, hoping that somehow they could reach the edge of the blizzard. Walking became too difficult, even for Thor, and Jonathan realized a little too late that they were lost in the unfamiliar forest with no hope of warmth or shelter.

Finally, Jonathan and Thor found a tiny trail that seemed to go nowhere but deeper in the forest, but he decided he had nothing else to loose. He had nothing for his children, he had lost his sons, now he would die in the freezing forest alone, missed by no one. They stepped onto the small path and followed it slowly, every movement shooting spears of pain through Jonathan's body. Thor's breathing became labored and Jonathan began to wonder if this was the end.

Jonathan noticed suddenly that the forest around them was much more green than it was white, and the temperature had risen a little. A bright light shone, like the sun in the early spring morning, in the distant trees, and Jonathan was instantly drawn to it. With every step Thor took, Jonathan became warmer and could see clearer.

They stepped out of the forest into a very large clearing where a great white castle stood ominously in the middle, surrounded by huge gardens full of flowers of every color imaginable. The roof of the castle shot up to the with cirrostratus clouds, where the birds would circle around in the vivid blue sky. The gray windows held all the colors of a darker taste, the exact opposite of the outside. Jonathan saw this before all of the shutters flew closed on the windows.

Though he had just walked out of a wintry blizzard, the garden seemed strangely untouched by any sort of frost or chilly weather. It was washed in warm sunlight so brilliant that Jonathan forgot for a second that he had been cold just seconds earlier. The eccentric green stems, leaves, and grass shot up from the brilliant dirt. The flowers were too bright to look at directly, so Jonathan looked at the sublime flowers by the corner of his eyes.

To his left, Jonathan noticed an open stable full of hay and oats. He knew that Thor must've been hungry and exhausted, and since the garden was warm, he figured he could sleep outside if the castle wasn't as empty as it seemed. He dismounted the large horse and led him over to the stables, noticing a bucket of soap and a brush. He figured the poor horse could use a grooming, and since he was not completely exhausted yet, he washed Thor down carefully.

He then decided to see if maybe there was someone at the castle who would allow him to stay the night, or give him directions at least. He knocked on the large doors loudly, hoping someone might hear. The doors creaked open slowly, which Jonathan took as a sign allowing him to enter. He stepped into the largest foyer he had ever seen. He tried to ignore the splendor of the room, but some parts stood out and made him somewhat uneasy. He searched for some sign of life, but the only sounds he heard were the soft pats of his feet on the white marble floor that reflected the light that came in through the open massive doors. The castle was dark enough to cause Jonathan some sight problems until his eyes adjusted. He walked towards the giant white granite staircases, still hoping to find someone.

"Follow…"

Jonathan whipped his head around, sure he heard someone. There was no one there, no one hiding in the shadows, no one on the staircase with him. He was still alone, but somehow he felt he was being watched.

Ahead of him, he saw a beam of light seeping out of a closed door. He walked over to it slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone. He knocked on the door gently, causing it to inch open and reveal a large dining room table with a single meal set by the crackling fire. His stomach growled at the thought of food, and he stepped over to the place silently.

The meal looked delicious, but Jonathan refrained from eating anything. This could not have been set for him, so he decided to wait for someone to enter the dining room. He sat in the large red chair by the glowing fireplace and waited, but no one ever came. The food continued to smell mouth-watering, but he was still the only one in the room.

He decided to risk taking one bite, sure that the moment he got up, someone would walk in. He eased himself out of the comfortable chair and stood by the plate, trying to decide what to eat. He picked up the bread and took a bite, immediately overcome by the perfect taste. Never in his time in the city or on the farm had he tasted anything like it. One bite wasn't enough anymore and he grabbed the meat savagely and stuffed it in his face. The flavor exploded in his mouth, and he ate as quickly as he could, terrified that someone would come in and stop him from eating anything else.

Soon the plate was empty and Jonathan was contentedly full. He walked back over to the chair and sat down, hoping for some rest.

"Follow…"

The same voice from before had him out of the seat in seconds. He scrutinized the room closely, searching for a person. There was no one there. Then a light beamed out from under a door, and Jonathan walked over, hoping he was allowed to open it.

He knocked again, and was not surprised this time when it crept open at his light tap. On the other side of the door, a large bed sat in the middle of the room, the heavy covers already pulled back. Jonathan looked around, searching for some sign of human activity in the room. There was no movement except the flames flickering in the fireplace and on the candles.

He had eaten without any difficulty, and Jonathan was suddenly overcome with fatigue so strong that he could barely stand up. He drifted over to the bed and lay down. The bed hugged him and he pulled the blankets up to his chin as he quickly slipped into sleep.

.o.O.o.

Something woke him up the next morning, causing him to lurch forward and his heart to beat rapidly. He searched the room, wondering what had broken him out of dark dreams. He finally focused on a tray someone had set next to his bed. On it was the best breakfast Jonathan had ever seen. He was sure that the food would be just as wonderful as the dinner he ate the night before, and he was hungry again. He bit into the crescent and was submerged in the magnificent taste.

He finished the food quickly and decided, with great chagrin, that he should probably leave. He swung his legs out from under the warm blankets and onto the chilly floor. He grabbed his stolen coat from the end of the bed and started out of the room.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. He turned towards a small table by the fireplace. On it laid a single red rose with a red velvet ribbon wrapped around the pure green stem. Jonathan didn't know exactly who or what lived in this enchanted castle, but he hadn't seen anyone, and the rose reminded him of his promise to his wonderful Persephone. He walked over to get a better look and lifted the flower off the table.

Taking the rose wouldn't hurt anyone he rationalized. After all, it was just a flower, easily grown in any garden, especially the ones outside the castle. And he had promised his girls presents from the city. Though Eris and Aello wouldn't get anything, surely he could at least give Persephone what she had asked for. He weighed the fragile rose in his hands for a while before he decided to take it. He gripped the flower tightly and stepped out of the large bedroom.

A terrifying scream-like growl filled the castle and vibrated off the ceiling. Jonathan clutched the large flower to his chest and shrunk towards the wall. The double doors across the room flung open violently, and a huge creature stormed towards him from the end of that hall, fluidly running on all four powerful legs. Jonathan's eyes flew open wider in horror and shock as the monster grew quickly closer.

Once the creature stopped, about two yards away, it rolled up on two of its legs. It spread its shoulders out and made its thick neck curve into an s shape. It stretched its back to its full length, standing about nine feet tall. The head was covered in the shadows that dripped onto its chest. Its shoulders fell into bulky arms that sloped into huge hands that were more paw like with curved claws jutting out from the tips of its fingers. The beast made its chest protrude out from under its dark cloak. Its stomach curved under and into legs that were thicker than Jonathan was wide.

"How dare you touch that rose," the beast growled showing its white long fangs. There was a dark and menacing edge to his voice, and Jonathan felt the flower slip out of his hand and hit the floor, a pedal falling of once it landed.

"I…I…p-p-please. I…I…" The words wouldn't come out of his mouth. All he could manage to do was stand by the stone wall and gape at the hideous beast in front of him.

"Insolence!" the creature screamed and grew ever closer to Jonathan.

Jonathan could see its eyes that peered out from under its thick brows. The eyes were human, full of emotion, noting at all like a beast. The brown eyes were almost black except the gold ring around the iris that flared out.

"N-n-no," Jonathan gasped, "please." He fell to his knees in fright. He stared up at the monster that towered over him.

"You shall pay for you folly!" The beast reached down and jerked Jonathan off the floor. It lifted him by the neck until he was four or five feet off the floor. He felt his eyes fill up with tears at the thought of becoming this creature's next meal.

"P-p-please. I didn't know. I didn't mean to." He started to sob, internally hoping that the beast would show him some mercy and allow him to go home to his family.

"Ignorance is no excuse! I allowed you to eat my food and sleep in my bed, and how do you repay me? By stealing my flowers?" Its giant paw tightened around Jonathan's neck.

"N-n-no!" he begged again. "It was for my daughter. Please. All she wanted was a rose, and I couldn't even give her that. Please, spare my life. I just want to see my daughters again."

The beast was silent for a moment, but still held Jonathan in the air. "I will spare your life," it began in a low and rough voice, barley moving its muzzle, "if one of your daughters will take your place. She must come by her own free will. If one of them will trade their lives for yours, I will not kill you. Do you understand?"

As the beast voiced his deal, Jonathan thought of his options. If he agreed to this, he could have one more chance to see his children again before he died. After all, there was no way he would allow one of his daughters to take his place as this monster's next meal. He breathed as deeply as he could and nodded despite the giant paw at his neck.

"You have one week," the creature snarled as he dropped Jonathan to the ground. "Mount your horse and ride out the way you came. You will arrive at your house the moment you leave the gardens. To return with one of your daughters or alone, simply twist this ring on your finger"–the beast threw a golden ring down at Jonathan's feet–"and it will bring you back here. Seven days."

Jonathan nodded in understanding, knowing that he would be alone the next time he saw this place. He would not allow any of his children to take his place. The beast let out a deep roar and stormed out of the room, taking the large red rose with him.

Once the creature was gone, Jonathan stood quickly, trying desperately to ignore the painful tingles in his back and legs. He ran as quickly as he could, trying to remember how to leave the castle. He found his way, finally, to the large foyer and scrambled out the huge double doors. He raced to the stables, saddled and mounted Thor and they galloped out of the gardens, leaving the scarlet pedal on the pure white floor.

The creature was right. The instant Jonathan and Thor left the gardens, they were back on the familiar dirt road that led to their house. After riding for a few seconds, the old brick building came into view, and he saw Persephone in the vegetable garden alone, pulling weeds. Jonathan felt his heart beating quickly, and he realized that this was the last week he would ever spend with any of his daughters.


	4. The Decision of Persephone Reede

Persephone's spade dug into the ground with a little more force she had intended. Beads of sweat oozed into her eyes and she wiped them away with her dirt-covered arms. She gripped the weed's stem with one hand and set the spade down with the other. As she tugged on the stem, she heard the unmistakable sounds of hoof beats pounding the ground. She looked up to the front of the yard, expecting her father to come from the east, if he was ever coming back, but she heard the twigs breaking behind her. She turned around quickly to find Thor and her father stepping out of the bracken.

"Father!" Persephone yelled and jumped up to her nimble feet.

"Ah, Persephone," he sighed as he climbed off Thor.

Persephone noticed that he looked quite miserable, but she quickly put that though aside, rationalizing that he was just tired.

He looked around, perplexed, as Persephone hastily took Thor's reins. "Where are your sisters?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Persephone pursed her lips and started walking to the stables, "Um, I think they went to town."

He nodded absently and looked around, growing more distant. Persephone noticed that he watched her with great care while she brushed down Thor. She kept her eyes away from his regretful look, but once she was finished, she found that it was unavoidable. She smiled an understanding smile, though she had no idea what had put her father in such a mood.

He smiled back but it didn't reach his eyes, "Oh, Persephone, you really are my precious gift. I would never give you away," he said and hugged her close. "I am not Zeus."

"That's a quite a relief!" exclaimed Persephone, trying to erase the feeling that he was alluding to something. "Now, tell me where you've been."

"Nothing to be said there," he said rather quickly. "I didn't have enough money for the presents I promised."

Persephone smiled, forcing her mouth into a consoling twist, "Father, you know I don't care about the presents. I'm just happy that you're back."

Her father threw her another distracted smile and hugged her again, "Ah, lovely Persephone, you are much too kind to me. I doubt your sisters will see it that way."

"What else? Something seems off. Tell me," Persephone pressed as they walked into the kitchen.

Her father looked over her head to the forest behind them. "Well, aren't you intuitive?" he cried, somehow seeming less frantic. "I am going to tell the family at dinner, so you'll have to wait until then."

"What are you going to do until dinner?" Persephone demanded, baffled.

"Sleep, my child, sleep!" he called over his shoulder, throwing his right arm into the air as he hobbled up the creaking steps.

She smiled up at the floorboards, hearing them creak with his weight. She shook her head and went back outside to the garden. She worked at the dusty ground until her sisters and Adam came back. She heard their squeals in the house when they found their father walking around. Persephone smiled and went back to work, almost finished. She shook off her bulky gloves and shoved them to the ground. As she walked over to Thor, she saw the disappointed faces of Eris and Aello through the window.

The big horse looked up when she walked into the stall. He pawed the ground in greeting and nuzzled her with his big face. Persephone giggled at him as she petted his thick tresses. She found a vivid green leaf stuck on a bright brown, almost gold, stem interlaced in Thor's muddy mane. Picking up the dying leaf delicately with her finger and thumb, she brought it close to her face. Some of the sunlight leaking through the stable walls glittered off the foliage so that the tiny plant seemed to glow.

"How very strange," she whispered.

As her breath gently caressed the leaf, it turned a deep royal purple color, as amethyst on a sapphire stem, crystallized forever. She twirled the gemmed leaf through her fingers, realizing that it was still as flexible as the normal green leaves around the house. She weighed it in her hand and felt nothing but the coolness of the stone.

"Sef, come on. Time to eat!" she heard Adam call out from the house.

She carefully put the leaf in her makeshift pocket and pressed her hand to her dress, half expecting the greenery to disappear. She walked slowly, not knowing if she really wanted to hear the story her father seemed hesitant to tell.

Once she stepped into the full kitchen, everybody looked at her, waiting for her to sit in the empty chair. She eased into the seat and occupied herself by piling the warm food on her plate. She took a bite of the bread and looked at her father. Seeming to feel her gaze, he looked at her and smiled with the weight of his knowledge. He stood up at the long emptied head of the table.

"Well, I am very glad to be back with my adoring family," he started proudly, "But to be able to be here, I had to go through many treacherous perils."

Persephone felt her face go white with the thought of her father in any sort of dangerous situations. He described the rain, the bandits, and the gypsies, everything leading up to the forest. When he reached that point in his story, he faltered, obviously trying to find words. As he began to describe the castle and the surrounding gardens, his hands started to shake and his voice grew weak and exhausted.

"Then, just before I left," he continued in a shaky voice, "I…it…I saw…" He shook his head, as if he couldn't go on with his story.

"Tell us, Father, what you saw," Eris whimpered.

"Oh, oh," he laughed sadly, his mood suddenly swinging from frightened to rueful, "I shall tell you what I saw. I saw a beast. It was neither man, nor animal. It had large fangs and fingernails that twisted around its bear fingers. Its matted fur had clumps missing. Its eyes were bright and ready for a kill, and its muzzle was stained with the blood of its last meal. It spoke with the voice of a man, but I can assure you, there was no trace of humanity in its soul. What a dreadful creature!" Persephone watched her father sway a bit as he stood at the edge of the table. He looked terrified, but resolved.

For some reason, Persephone got the feeling that the beast wasn't as horrid as her father had described. He had always had a knack for stretching the truth. She looked up at her father, wondering if his story was entirely accurate. She would never confess the doubts that bubbled up to her lips. She clamped her mouth down to hold them back, but she couldn't stop a questing from breaking through.

"So is this where you came from?" she asked, blinking up at her father.

He nodded, "Yes. It made me a disgusting offer, so I ran from it." He seemed a little unwilling to offer this piece of the story, which confused Persephone.

Persephone couldn't stop another question, "What did he propose?"

He seemed amused by her questions. "It offered to spare my life for the lives of one of my daughters."

Eris shook her head. "All that for discovering its castle…" she mused.

Their father looked sheepishly down at the table. "Well, it did feed me and house me for the night."

This bit of information caught them off guard. "Then why the dreadful proposition?" asked Adam.

Persephone's father's face blushed a deep color, "I saw a rose and thought of Persephone. I was ashamed that couldn't buy anything for my splendid daughters, so I picked it up. What is a rose, I asked myself. What is one measly rose to a man–and at this time, I thought a prince lived in this grand palace–who had the entire world? Then the beast came and accused me of stealing from him. All for a rose! One single rose!"

"Well, then Father, let Persephone pay. She is, as you say, the one for whom you stole for," stated a matter-of-fact Eris.

"Yes," agreed Aello, "if she had asked for something grand, like Eris or myself…well, we wouldn't find ourselves in this situation, would we?"

Her father's eyes shot up to stare at both of them, his face white with despair, "I could not let go of my Persephone."

Persephone could not bear to think of her father held prisoner to a beast. She agreed with her sister's arguments.

"Yes, Father, you should let me go. The family needs you here, I could leave and not be missed," Persephone said.

"Indeed," Eris and Aello agreed at the same time.

"Persephone, you cannot go! I forbid it!" her father cried.

Adam shook his head. "No Jonathan, Persephone's right. We need you here."

Persephone's father crossed his arms. "My mind is already made up," he clarified. "I've lead a full life while my daughters have yet to live."

"Though we could not go on without you?" asked Aello, her voice pointed and accusing. "That would be no life for any of us," she finished quietly.

"We have a week," her father announced coldly, maybe expecting Persephone to abandon her crusade.

"Then I will leave with you in one week," Persephone pronounced. "And if you will not let me go, I will leave tonight. I _will_ spare your life, papa."

.o.O.o.

A week later, Persephone packed the last bundle of clothes onto Thor's back. She was taking him with her to the beast's castle. Her father mounted one of the plow horses and watched Persephone. She had the crystal leaf in her pocket of her best dress, and she reached down often to reaffirm its existence. It comforted her somehow, as if a jeweled leaf were a sign of protection. Her only valuable belongings were her books, and those were packed with her clothing. She looked back at the little brick house, but there was no one outdoors to see her off.

She looked over to her father who sat stubbornly on his horse. He puckered his face, and the two of them began the long trip to the beast's castle. With his lips pursed and brows pulled down, her father didn't provide much conversation. Once or twice, however, he tried to talk Persephone out of going, but over the past week she had became surer that this was what she was meant to do. A few times when she looked over at her father, he had his hand over a pocket in his pants. Each time she noticed his strange behavior, her own hand flashed down to her pocket to feel the leaf.

"Let's stop here for lunch," he said suddenly.

Persephone looked up to the afternoon sun and then ahead of her. "Okay."

He pulled out a golden ring and handed it to her. "Here." He pulled out some sandwiches he packed and handed one to Persephone.

"What is this?" she asked, intrigued, but also a little nervous that he had stolen it from the monster controlling the castle.

"It's a ring that the horrid beast gave to help me to find his castle," explained her father. "Put it on, Sef, and twist it around your finger. He said that then we would find it."

"Now?" she asked, her heart pounding out an excited rhythm in her chest.

Her father looked at her, half with wild disgust and half saddened to the core. "Not now," he begged, "eat your lunch."

Once they finished eating, Persephone much sooner than her father, they got up and mounted their horses. Persephone looked over at her father and he nodded as he looked at the ring. Persephone swirled it around her finger and waited for a blinding light or some sign of magic, but nothing changed.

"Let's go," said her father roughly.

She followed him to a worn path. He lead the way, and he seemed intent on taking his time, maybe hoping to somehow prolong the inevitable. Then, through the trees, a looming white castle grew from the grassy hill and seemed to shine on its own. All the bright colors sang out in their own melody, creating a suite, which the trees danced to in the soft breeze that swept through the arcade. Persephone and her father rode to the center of the gardens and watched as the great wooden doors of the castle swung open wide. A part of the shadows ripped away and ran towards Persephone and her father.

A large wolf-like animal paused under the light shadows, and then fell on all fours and sauntered over to where they had stopped. The light brown fur danced in the breeze, and the wind pushed some of the hair away from his eyes, which shone from a distance. He about Thor's height, who was pawing the ground nervously. The beast stopped a good ten feet away from them and bowed his head in greeting. His eyes slid over to Persephone. In truth, she did not find the beast at all frightening. At least, not until he spoke human words.

The beast's voice was strong and masculine. "Have you come willingly?" He glanced over to her father, who hung his head.

"Yes," she whispered as she studied the animal again.

"What is your name?" he asked gently. His dark eyes were deep and held traces of deep, painful emotions that Persephone could not begin to decipher.

"Persephone," she replied with a little more volume.

Her father snorted. "What a perfect name for my child who I promised away!" he muttered under his breath.

Persephone ignored her father and turned to the beast. "What will you do with me?" she asked. She somehow sounded much braver than she felt.

The beast smiled as best as he was able. "I will not harm you. I swear to you," he swung his mighty head over to her father, "I will not harm her, I swear to you," he repeated. "You may go." He bowed graciously to her father, "and you," the beast looked at Persephone, "may go inside. Say your goodbyes; I'll see you at dinner."


	5. The First Excange

Persephone stared at the great beast as discretely as she could manage, though it was very difficult to pass her gaping mouth and bug eyes as her normal facial expression. She was having trouble concentrating on the wonderful meal in front of her, and her host seemed to notice. His dark eyes gazed back at her gently, as if waiting for the best moment to start a conversation.

"I am very frightening, aren't I?" His deep and rumbling voice was heavy with the weight of the world as he looked down at his hands.

"Well…um…, you certainly have a lot of hair…" Though she worked to sound consoling–or polite, at the very least–she still heard the uneasiness in her voice.

"Indeed." The beast continued to stare at her, which made her anxious. She was silent for a while, trying to come up with something intelligent to say.

"What am I to call you…sire?" Persephone asked him finally, bowing her head towards the table.

"There is no need for formalities here, Persephone," the beast told her as gently as he could manage, "my name is Tristan."

"Tristan?" Persephone clarified, a little taken aback. She didn't expect a creature like him to have such a human name. Again, the beast just looked at her with his sad eyes.

Persephone cleared her throat and squirmed a little under his gaze. "What do you want from me, Tristan?" she whispered into her plate. She knew he had claimed outside that no harm would come to her, but here in the dark dining room, she found it difficult to take comfort in that promise.

"Well, I'm afraid it gets terribly lonely here." He gestured to the large room. Persephone listened to the echoes of his voice as they vibrated off the ceiling and was a little ashamed that she didn't think of that sooner.

"I suppose it would…" she trailed off, her eyes wandering around the dark walls. The shadow drenched room held two windows which somewhat expelled the darkness from the wall and floor. The grand fireplace swept back some of the blackness also, but the shadow's fingers still gripped at the table. The dreary wood of the table was offset by the stone walls. The entire room was made up of large gray blocks and was covered in tapestries depicting epic battles and foxhunts. The marble floors, which had obviously been laid with extreme precision, were covered in strange black markings.

"Are you…a king?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tristan chuckled a booming, humorless laugh. "Hardly." He didn't say anything else, he just watched Persephone.

Persephone, feeling his gaze on her, blinked up at the large creature across the table. She met his eyes and was surprised to find that they were very human, not beast-like at all. She dropped her eyes quickly and focused on her food, taking a small bite of the chicken.

"It's okay," Tristan soothed, misreading her expression, "it'll get better. I'm not something you can grow accustomed to overnight." His voice was gentle and soft, but still as deep and rumbling as any beast's would be.

Persephone nodded and looked at the empty place in front of Tristan. "Aren't you going to eat anything?" she asked. She didn't like eating alone.

Tristan lifted his paws and held them still in the air. "I can't really hold a spoon or fork, as you can see, and I wouldn't want to spoil your appetite by appeasing mine. I'll eat once you go to sleep."

"What do you usually…eat?" she pressed, though she knew the answer before she finished her question. Tristan's eyes flashed up to her, golden and full of surprise.

"Never mind," Persephone countered when she saw Tristan's discomfort. Not only did she not want to push him too far, but she also didn't want him to confirm her assumptions about his diet.

Tristan's gaze shifted in embarrassment and he stared blankly at the dark walls behind Persephone. "I'm sorry I'm such a beast," he muttered, his words barely audible.

"No," Persephone demanded before she could stop herself. She sat straight in her chair. "Don't be sorry for what you are. If you can't accept yourself, how can you expect others to?" The moment the words were out, she wished she could suck them back in, afraid of Tristan's response. She should learn to control her tongue; she was not an adviser to a king and had absolutely no right telling Tristan how to act.

Tristan looked up to Persephone in genuine surprise. That was not a response he had expected. Pity, yes. Horror, definitely. But such a rational and simple statement mystified him.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" he asked.

The fork in Persephone's hand dropped the very short distance from her fingers to the table and her eyes flashed to his. Her mind was completely blank as she tried to form a suitable response. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer or what her consequence would be if her answer were wrong. Fear clawed at her heart as she stared at the beast across the table.

"Terrified," she whispered finally, hoping that honesty would go further than lies. Tristan continued to stare at her, prodding gently into her eyes. She shifted in her chair again, perturbed by his intense scrutiny.

"You're not at all what I expected," Tristan mused, his giant paw rubbing his furry head thoughtfully. Persephone cringed and refused to meet his gaze.

"And…is that a bad thing?" Her voice was low and quiet, trembling a little as she spoke. She was sure he was going to eat her soon, or something equally horrible.

"Not bad…just different," Tristan stated vaguely. Persephone played with the piles of food on her plate, not sure how to respond.

Tristan cleared his throat after a moment of silence. The earsplitting sound caused Persephone to jump, a fact that she tried to hide by grabbing for the fork with her shaking hand. She kept her eyes dutifully on her chicken.

"Is there anything that I can provide for you that will make your stay more comfortable?" His voice was thick with unease.

She shifted through her still hazy thoughts, trying to think of some commodity that would not test his hospitality. She ducked her head and smiled. "Books," she stated simply. She kept her head down while she ate the rest of her meal.

Through the rest of the dinner, Persephone picked at her food in silence while Tristan watched her with his bright eyes. Finally, she finished and glanced at the large being across the table. Noticing that his eyes were on her once again, she frowned subtly. She looked around the room to hide her chagrin.

"Are you done, Persephone?" Tristan's thundering voice scared her again and she felt her face flush in embarrassment.

"Yes." She refused to look at him. Instead, she began to leave table with no idea where she was to go.

As she stood up, Tristan looked at her more intensely. His eyes, so human in his beastly body, bore into her soul, poorly hidden behind her wide eyes. Persephone ducked her head again, knowing her fear was too transparent and obvious. She took a deep breath and a step towards the giant double doors at the other end of the room.

"Persephone," Tristan began, his deep voice echoing from the floor and the ceiling, "will you marry me?"

Persephone stopped where she was. Her body went cold and she felt her already terrified eyes grow wider. Her thoughts became rapid, clouded by the extreme sound of her heartbeats. For the second time that night, she was not sure how to answer. Truthfully, she reminded herself.

"No," she whispered, sure that Tristan could hear her rejection. She peered at his large body from the corner of her eyes.

He nodded once and waved his right hand. "Laden, accompany Persephone, please."

"Where to?" a bodiless voice asked.

Tristan looked at Persephone without any displease. "Wherever she wants."

"Yes, sir."

Persephone felt cool whips of wind at her arm. She looked at Tristan in terror.

"Don't be alarmed," he said to her as he stood up, "She's just a servant damned by a curse. She's here to take of you."

"Where to, miss?" She looked over to the empty air, trying to make out some sort of humanly shape.

"Um," Persephone said feeling foolish talking to no one, "My room?"

"Good choice, ma'am," the air praised.

Persephone felt wind on her back, pushing her forward. She turned to look at the beast standing in the shallow shadows. Her eyes looked up to his looming face. Could she ever love a beast, she wondered. Worried her face gave too much away, she turned away, ashamed of where her thoughts had gone.


	6. The Chagrin of Tristan Hugh

The cold tile led the way to the drawing room and Tristan's massive claws clicked on the floor with each vexed step he took. His huge muzzle skimmed the top of the chilly flooring as his head hung heavy on his shoulders.

"Your heart is cold and beastly. You will be a beast, inside and out," he quoted to himself sharply.

He had reached the drawing room and waited as the thick wooden doors swung open for him. The drawing room held the biggest window in the castle as well as the biggest chair. Tristan passed his evenings sitting in the oversized seat, watching the forest outside and looking for his maiden, but tonight, he forgot about that. He started to pace the twenty-foot length of the window, grumbling in his deep voice.

"Why am I such a beast?" he questioned. "Why can't I let her leave? That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, and she wouldn't be so frightened of me." His strides grew longer as the frustration bubbled in his stomach.

He sat down in front of the window and pressed his nose to the warm glass. The sky, darkened by the thick overhead of clouds, opened for the beginnings of the torrential rainstorm. The beast swung his eyes to the grandfather clock ticking on the other side of the room. The clock rang eleven o'clock.

"Right on time," he mused to no one.

He turned back to the world beyond his own. He could hear echo-like footsteps from somewhere above him. His thoughts began to circle back to Persephone. She was very beautiful. Those eyes of hers seemed to search his soul, and he was embarrassed about what she must find. She was both intelligent and quick-witted, as well. He'd never known anyone like her before, partly because no one else dared show her intelligence or wit.

"Shall I play some music for you, Sir?" asked Philip, another windy servant.

"No," Tristan sighed, as he heaved himself onto his paws.

"Then, shall I get your dinner?" Philip inquired.

Tristan ignored the question and asked his own. "Philip what do you think of the girl?"

There was a stunned silence in the room after the question. Tristan never asked for anyone's opinion, especially a servant's.

Philip cleared his invisible throat, "Um, I don't know, Sir. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the girl. However, what I've heard from Laden, she's a delightful person."

Tristan leaped into his huge chair, though it was still a little too small for him, and nodded.

"You may take your leave, Philip," Tristan said somberly.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly.

She's too delightful for this life, he thought to himself. She should see that. She should have run away the first time he spoke to her. Instead, she stayed and dined with him and his hideous face. He saw her flinch when he spoke to her, or when she caught him watching her. He saw her wide frighten eyes that tried to hide from him, with her thoughts and fears spelled out for him to read. Her fear of him and the possibilities of what he could do.

She could have run. He had given her the option, though he knew she didn't realize it. She could have told Laden to take her home. Back to her safe, warm house with her doting father, looking out the windows for the horrible beast locked away in a doomed castle. Why wasn't she running now? All alone up in her cold room, she could make it. He wouldn't have stopped her. How he wished he could run away from himself sometimes! Yet, he could still feel her in her room.

He scoffed at her naïveté and her misplaced trust. His scoff turned into a low rattling in his chest. He leaped out of his chair with so much force he almost cracked the tile with his claws. His legs carried him down the slick hallway. He jumped the stair railing and landed on the middle of the steps. He leaped off the stairs and out the already opened doors into the pouring rain. He didn't break his pace; he ran into the forest. Once he had traveled a good distance from the white castle, he stopped. He raised his head and screamed to the clouds. A horrifying howl ripped through his neck, making his body shiver with its power.

How could he do this to a lady, he asked himself. How could she still be here?

His stomach growled under his bay. He cut off his cry, and lowered his head to smell the ground for prey. He could faintly smell the musk of a cougar off to his right. He gave one last glace up to the overcast skies before going on his hunt.

o.O.o

He walked slowly back into the palace. He could feel shapeless hands on his tattered sleeves.

"Oh, sir, I will get you some new clothes!" said a windy voice.

"Bed clothes, please, Airabell," Tristan said.

Another voice chimed in, "And I'll start a nice, warm bath."

Tristan nodded toward the voice, "Thank you, Jared."

"Anything else for you, sir?" asked Laden.

He thought for a moment, deliberating. "Yes," he finally resolved, "Check on Persephone, please."

"Yes, sir," said Laden.

Tristan walked to his bathroom. A full bath was waiting for him. His bed attire lay out on a chair near the open window. The steam coming off the water warmed up his body as he breathed in the air. He felt hands on his tugging on his fur. He stood up, feeling foolish as he always did at this point in his day. Quick, nimble hands unbuttoned his jacket, his vest, and then his under shirt. As the hands placed them on the floor, they were pulled from the room. His pants were taken off in the same fashion. He sank down in the silky water.

He felt the warm flow over his broad, furry chest. He breathed deeply under the water. With his sore body in water, he finally relaxed. He put the girl in the north wing aside. He tried to remember what it felt to be a human in water. This was the only time he really felt somewhere near normal. As he breathed in the steam, he dozed off.

A single rose grew in his beloved garden. It was bigger than his hand, so he cupped the scarlet red flower with both paws. He thought it would die from his touch, but instead it grew larger. It twirled up his left arm and around his shoulder. It grew over to the middle of his chest that was showing from beneath his undershirt. As it stayed there, Tristan's surroundings became darker, bleaker. The once beautiful rose bit into his chest where his heart lay. He cried out and tried to rip the rose from his body, but it had wound itself into his flesh with its thorns. He looked down, once again, only to see that the rose was now his unbeating heart. The vine of the flower was now his veins, twirling around inside of him.

He saw the enchantress that haunted most of his earlier dreams. He saw her, still beautiful and sinister, as she walked up to him. Her trilling laugh rang in his ears.

"Tristan," she giggled in her pause, "Oh, you give me such happiness." She clapped her hands together and tittered.

He grunted against the pain, "Why is that, lady?"

Her face brighten up, almost shinning, "You fail even the simplest of tasks!" She laughed again.

He blinked at her, "What of the hard tasks?"

She clapped again, "'What of the hard tasks?' Oh, Tristan, you amuse me so!"

"Tristan," called a far off voice.

The enchantress's face when into pleasant surprise, "Oh, 'tis Laden. I must be off!"

Tristan woke up with Laden touching his right shoulder. He looked over to where he thought she should be.

"Yes, Laden?" he asked warmly.

"She sleeps well," she said then left.

Tristan nodded to himself, "She sleeps well."


	7. The Distrought of Persephone Reede

Persephone followed where the wind pushed her, taking in her new surroundings. The walls of every hall were made from white marble and were covered in many elaborate tapestries. She noticed, however, that each seemed to depict the same young man with dark hair doing something heroic. They were worn and old so she couldn't easily make out any facial features, but she imagined him to be very handsome.

She was broken from her reverie by the sudden sound of a door creaking open. She yanked her eyes from the captivating faceless man slaying a blue dragon to watch the heavy door. She saw, as it drifted from her, her name inscribed into a bronze plate. For a moment, she felt confused, wondering how the lovely script had been placed there so quickly. Then she remembered where she was, and the confusion slipped away.

She felt the gentle wind push her into the room and she took a few staggered steps over the threshold. The first thing she noticed upon entering was the massive amounts of plum purple splashed everywhere. A think purple down comforter and dark throw pillows covered a large bed in the center of the room. The wallpaper, the rugs, even the roses in crystal bowls were of the same color. Plum gossamer curtains allowed dark lavender light to glide through the windows and onto the almost black floor.

"Stay here," she heard the wind whisper. She thought it a little strange hearing a disembodied voice. "Stay here and rest."

Persephone opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she could only manage a quiet squeak. The wind said nothing but seemed to rummage around in a dresser filled with dark clothes.

She refused to admit it, but she couldn't get the horrible image of the beast out of her mind. The first exchange had frightened her more than she cared to admit. His almost too human eyes peering at her through his beastly face stared at her still.

"On the bed. A nightgown for you." Persephone moved her eyes from an open window to the purple comforter. A simple silk dress lay there, contrasting with the darkness of the bed. Persephone felt the tips of her fingers begin to tingle and her head started to spin. Her already shallow breath trapped in her throat.

"Thanks," she managed before drifting over to the nightdress. She thought she heard the faintest sound of the wind leaving as she fingered the silk.

As the nightdress slid through her fingertips, it occurred to her suddenly that she was now very alone. Her father had probably already arrived back at her house, the wind had left her and the beast…Tristan left her to navigate the castle by herself. The latter she was thankful for, but she still couldn't keep the loneliness at bay.

She then, stupidly, thought about Tristan in great detail. She remembered the awful thickness of his fur, the large mangled teeth that dripped from his mouth, the unsettlingly hazel human eyes. She thought of his thick muscled arms and his claw-filled hands. She shivered with the memory of his face, half lit in darkness.

She couldn't hold onto her frail courage anymore; her knees began to shake and she fell towards the floor. She thrust her arms out to catch on the bed, but they weren't strong enough to hold her.

It was black for a very long time, but Persephone couldn't remember where she was. Then, a bright light flooded her vision and she found herself in her mother's garden in the city. She was surrounded by thousands of vibrant colors and the inaudible din of the street behind her. She took a deep breath, feeling strangely relieved.

Her mother was laughing a few feet away as she pulled weeds. "Persephone," her mother called. She walked over to the rose bush her mother was tending and bent to collect weeds.

"Where do roses come from," she asked her mother.

"Roses come from love," her mother answered.

"I don't understand." Persephone cupped her hand around a large bloom and looked at it. She breathed in the strong scent of the red flower.

Her mother chuckled and wiped her dirty hands on her apron. "Once upon a time," her mother began, gently stroking her daughter's chin, "There was a king who wanted a daughter more than anything. After six years of desperation, he began to take evening walks along the beach to quiet his restless heart. For six long nights, he cried six tears into the ocean that bordered his land, and on the sixth night, a beautiful enchantress arose from the water.

"'King,' she cooed, 'why are you crying?' The king lifted his face and stared at the woman for a long moment.

"'I have wanted a daughter for six long years, but my wish has never been granted.'

"The enchantress thought about this for a while before she answered the king. 'I will grant your wish,' she told him, 'and she will be with you until the end of your days.'

"The king, overjoyed by her words, sank to his knees and thanked her. He fell asleep on the sand and slept for six hours. When he awoke, the sea was churning and the waves were breaking high on the beach. The king looked out across the water and saw something drifting towards him. A baby sat nestled in a large shell, crying softly. As it came closer, the sea foam turned to large white flowers he had never seen before. He gathered them in his arms and lifted the baby from her crib.

"He named his daughter Marion, meaning _from the sea_ and called the flowers roses. Marion grew to be a beautiful girl, and the king loved her dearly. She loved her father with her whole heart, and watched sadly as her father drifted into old age. As he lay on his deathbed, Marion cried six drops of blood, which ran down her face and onto the still living white roses her father always kept by his bedside. When her red tears touched the petals, they turned red as well, and since that time, the world has been full of the flower of eternal love."

As her mother finished the story, Persephone bent forward to smell the wonderful rose again, and then her vision faded back into the blackness.

When Persephone awoke on the cold wooden floor, the room was as black as her unconsciousness. Her left hand gripped the bottom of the silk dress tightly and her neck ached from the uncomfortable position. Using the bed as a support, she stood up and changed into the nightgown. She heard the faint sound of pouring rain on her window, which she thought was strange, given the perfect whether from the day before. She thought she also heard a far off wolf's bay, but dismissed that as her dream.

Not knowing what else to do, she lifted the heavy covers from the bed and crawled into the darkness. She lay awake for a while, fighting the horrific images of hairy creatures devouring her that threatened her. Soon, though, she drifted into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

.o.O.o.

A quiet tinkling sound woke Persephone from her deep sleep. She moaned softly and turned her head to the side. Someone, probably Laden, had left a tray of food for breakfast. She moved to the table in front of the fireplace and carefully lifted a croissant to her mouth. The food was delicious, just as it was the night before. She devoured the rest in a matter of seconds.

No one came in to dress her, which she was anticipating, but was glad to be left alone. After her collapse the night before, she felt strangely stronger. She put on her simple dress and walked to the door. She grasped the doorknob and turned it, expecting it to be locked, but it gave and Persephone stepped into the hall.

"Hello?" she called into the emptiness. There was no answer, so she left her room behind and decided to explore more of the castle.

She followed the long white hallways to the granite staircase that led to the foyer. Her feet echoed through the stillness as she walked down the white steps. She walked out of the castle and into the wide gardens. The ground was dry, and she wondered whether she had just dreamed the pouring rain the night before.

As she followed the stone trail through the many flowers, she watched for hummingbirds or butterflies, but the air was still. She couldn't even hear a bird chirp, for there was none. It unsettled her.

She spent a few hours in the gardens, but it was difficult for her to gage the time because the sun seemed to be still in the sky. She barely covered a third of the vast flowers before her stomach growled telling her it was lunchtime. She followed the same trail back to the waiting doors.

She stood for a moment in the entry, wondering where she was going to eat. Before she had to decide, a door opened on her right. She walked over and saw that a dinner for one had been placed on a small table in a room overlooking a sea of roses. She sat in the overstuffed chair and ate the exquisite food.

Once she had finished, she decided to explore the castle instead of the remainder of the gardens. She was to be here for eternity and figured they could wait another day.

She wandered aimlessly around on the first floor, walking into the rooms that weren't locked. One such room led her to a hall of paintings. Each was a portrait of a king or queen with piercing black eyes and dark hair. Persephone stopped in front of each and examined it for a moment. The artistry was very good, but it wasn't until the very last portrait that she felt the subject was glaring at her alone.

The painting was of a very handsome young man with curly black hair swept behind his ears. He stood tall and graceful but stared out of the painting in arrogance. Persephone gazed into his eyes and found that she could not look away. His eyes looked so real, so human, she felt they were scalding her soul.

"What do you think of him?"

Persephone jumped and turned towards the other end of the hall. Tristan strolled down to meet her. The thought of being so close to the gigantic creature again sent tremors of fear down her spine, but she forced her lips into a fragile smile.

"Who was he?" she asked the Beast instead of answering him. She thought she saw irritation flash in his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure.

"A prince," Tristan answered simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

"It is nine o'clock. Time for dinner. May I accompany you?" he asked when Persephone didn't reply.

Afraid that he would eat her if she didn't answer in the affirmative, Persephone nodded her head yes. Tristan offered her his arm, but she couldn't bring herself to take it. He was too terrible to touch. She followed Tristan out of the hall of paintings and into the dinning room.


	8. The Practice of Tristan Hugh

Tristan walked into the music room. The sun shining in the room lit the brass instruments as if they were gold and the blue and gold rug stifled under Tristan's claws as he walked on toward his favorite piano. The glossy black sides mirrored his furry chest when he sat next to the ivory keys.

"Philip," he called and waited for the almost silent footsteps.

He heard them and turned to the door. "Sorry for the wait, sir," the invisible servant apologized.

Tristan shook his large head. "There's no problem, Philip."

Philip nervously cleared his throat. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly.

Tristan looked to where he thought Philip might be. "Yes?" he asked finally, wondering what the problem was. He hoped it had nothing to do with Persephone.

"Sorry I'm late, sirs," Laden's voice suddenly echoed in the room, "I had to take Persephone her breakfast."

"Um," Philip muttered timidly.

"Good," Airabell's voice whispered once her airy body came in the room, "I thought I was going to be late. I had to find Jared."

Jared tsked. "Oh, I was cleaning, like you should have been, Aira."

Tristan blinked at the empty room filled with the voices of his servants. He tried to understand why everyone was there. He cleared his throat to ask, but everyone was talking so loudly to each other that they couldn't hear him. A few other servants walked in, claiming they thought they would be late for some appointment Tristan knew nothing about.

Tristan cleared his beastly throat louder than before and everybody quieted down quickly. "Philip, I believe you were going to say something," he reminded his servants.

"Um, yes," Philip mumbled.

After a long pause, Tristan bade him to continue.

Philip sighed out a shaky breath. After another pause, Tristan chucked, though it sounded more like a roar than a laugh. He could image Philip blushing with the attention, though nobody could see him.

"Laden, I'm sure you came up with this idea. Let's save the head butler from embarrassment," Tristan called to the empty room.

"Well, after dinner, Persephone seemed…"

"Scared," Tristan finished.

"I suppose so. That got me thinking. We're not afraid of you anymore," Tristan snorted and Laden continued, ignoring it, "So we just have to show Persephone your…"

"True colors!" shouted Henry, the baker.

A silence followed that outburst. Tristan held back a smile.

"Hello?" called Persephone from somewhere in the castle.

Tristan sobered up rather quickly. He wondered if he should go and greet her, or if she was still too afraid of him. He didn't want to ruin her day. He heard her footsteps on the cool marble floors. He closed his eyes and remembered what it was like to hear the clicking of his heels in the emptiness of the castle. Nobody dared talk, especially Tristan. He heard the main doors open and then close.

Tristan let his breath out, and looked around the room. Everybody else exhaled and talked around him. Tristan cleared him throat again.

"Laden?" Tristan prodded.

She started from where she left off, "Well, what Henry said. We know you're not going to eat us," she said with a smile in her voice, "mostly because you can't see us."

Tristan gave a light growl. "Don't push it."

A quiet laugher reverberated in the room.

Philip's voice spoke up, "That's what were talking about, sir."

"You can make her see that you really are a human stuck in a beast's body," Airabell's voice put in.

"Do you think he should practice?" inquired Adam, the gardener.

They spoke to each other quickly. Tristan tried to remember at what point they started to control him, but he just smiled at the voices.

Laden spoke up. "Okay so I'm going to be Persephone, and you," her voice turned towards Tristan, "will be yourself."

"Wonderful idea, Laden," teased Philip.

Laden ignored him and spoke to Tristan. "So I'm walking with you," she paused, "Since we're walking, you should stand up."

Tristan rolled his eyes and rose from the too small chair. He felt Laden's airy self beside him.

"Ask me about my day," she whispered.

Tristan looked down at where he thought she was. "How was your day?" he asked bleakly.

He heard many of his servants groan in unison.

He tried it again, "What did you do today?" he asked. He then coughed a cough that sounded more like a growl than anything else.

"Um," Laden encouraged, "we'll go with the last one. Just make sure you don't cough after you say the question. My day was good."

Tristan nodded, "I'm glad."

"Okay," Laden sighed, "you just ended the conversation."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "I don't think she's going to be talking to me anyhow."

"What?" asked Airabell, "Why not?"

Tristan turned his grand head to her voice, "Look at me. I am a beast."

"What did she say last night?" asked Airabell rhetorically, "'Don't be sorry for what you are.'"

"How did you hear about that?" asked Jared, "You said that you were cleaning the cellar. That's in the basement."

"So I lied," Airabell stated matter-of-factly, "but a girl like her only comes once."

"Maybe we should just stick to the basics," Adam suggested, ignoring the two.

"Just be polite to her," Laden agreed.

Philip cleared his throat. "Now that that's settled, let's get back to work. This castle isn't going to clean itself."

The servants scuttled away, talking to the people around them. Philip stayed and plucked notes on the piano and the beast and the servant sat in silence for a little while. Quiet footsteps came back into the room.

"Sir," said Adam, "Persephone is taking a turn in the garden, should I continue my work?"

Tristan shook his head. "No, let her walk in peace." He smiled at the thought of Persephone in his gardens, hoping that she would like them.

"Yes, sir."

Philip started hitting a few keys again before he began playing Tristan's favorite melody. Tristan leaned against the wall while Philip played.

"Just think," Tristan said to Philip, "you didn't know how to play a single note on the piano before...well, you know."

Philip chuckled. "I am in your debt for teaching me."

Tristan shook his head and turned to look out a window. "I needed music, and you needed to impress Laden," he shrugged.

Tristan could almost feel the heat coming off Philip's face. "What?" he stammered.

Tristan chortled, "I've heard the way you talk to her. I can only image what looks you give her."

Philip didn't say anything after that, probably too embarrassed. His melody tumbled on, curving its way about the room. Tristan sighed and wished that he could still play.

He had tried to play a few days after his transformation. However, his claws tore into the keys and destroyed the instrument. After that, he had called in Philip and taught him to play. Everyday Tristan would have to stand in the room and listen to somebody else play the songs that he wrote. He had tried to write songs with Philip, but Philip didn't understand why he wanted to create more music when the world was full of forgotten songs.

After the song was finished, Philip plucked once more on the keys. Tristan looked at the grandfather clock, deciding he wanted to go somewhere else. He stood up and turned to the piano bench.

"Philip, thank you," he declared.

The bench scratched back. "Thank you, sir. Now, though, I must catch up on my duties."

Tristan nodded. "Please do."

Tristan walked toward the library as he heard the main doors open. He looked down at the doors and saw Persephone standing there, looking around. Tristan slid back into the room, making sure he could still see her. The door to her right opened and she looked at it for a moment before walking into the room. The doors slid shut.

Tristan quietly walked to the main doors and out of the castle. He meandered over to his garden and saw his rose patch, remembering his dream from the night before. He trotted over to the bushes and vines. Sitting down by the flowers, he searched for a rose to pick. It was then that he saw a pure red rose and its petals opened and fanned out just like his secret rose. He lifted his paw and pinched its delicate stem. He brought the flower to his mouth and blew on the flower. The flower changed into a deep ruby gem on a bright emerald stone. Its thorns turned into a light painite stone. Tristan twirled the flower around in his claws and watched the sunlight glint off the faucets.

He walked back into the castle and up the stairs. He heard the sound of dashing feet when he turned the corner.

"Persephone is in the King's Hall," Jared informed him, "she's getting awfully close to your painting, sir."

The sound of his feet quickly went away. Tristan continued on his way to his room. His doors opened. As he stepped inside, his rose almost pulled Tristan towards it. Tristan ignored the familiar pull and went to the chest of drawers. He opened the top drawer and saw the ninety red crystal roses that sparkled up at Tristan. He added his most recent rose to the top drawer. One set of drawers resembled six years of being in the beastly body. In his room, twenty-five filled drawers existed.

He dared not look at the cursed rose that lay on his table. Instead, he walked out of his room. He wandered to the King's Hall, hoping that Persephone would have gone to dinner, so he didn't have to panic her. He turned the corner and he saw her. Her hand was raised absentmindedly to the painting that bit into Tristan's sole every time he walked passed it. It was the one and only portrait of him as a human he let survive. Such a stupid picture, Tristan thought to himself, and he hated it even more than he hated himself.


	9. The Exploration of Persephone Reede

Persephone followed the great beast down the white halls. The candles nestled into their candelabra burst into flame as Tristan walked by and all Persephone could do was watch in amazement. The beast didn't say a thing; the echoes of his claws on the perfect marble floor were the only sound that reached her ears. The silence was uncomfortable.

"I wanted to thank you," Persephone began nervously, "for your hospitality." _And for leaving me alone_, she added silently to herself.

"Yes," Tristan replied, but he said nothing more.

Persephone felt a little stupid for trying to start a conversation, and she tried to fight the urge to fill the silence with senseless droning. She lost her internal battle.

"Your gardens are very lovely. I especially liked your roses. They grow beautifully. I had my lunch in a room that overlooked them. Back at my old house, a dead vine grew outside my window." When she mentioned her life away from the castle, a prang of homesickness shot through her heart. She wished she could stop talking, but her nerves kept her mouth running.

"Of course," she continued, "I don't know enough about gardening to bring it back to life. My mother tried to teach me when I was younger, but I found it tedious–"

"You talk quite a bit, don't you?" Tristan asked her, cutting her off. But his voice wasn't harsh, just calculating.

"Sorry." Persephone felt the blush rising to her cheeks. "It's just so quiet here…"

"Yes." Again, this was all Tristan said.

Persephone bit her lip to hold back the words that pushed at her lips. Instead, she tried to pretend that she was alone again. She glanced at the suits of armor that lined the hallways, she looked at each exquisitely decorated tapestry, and she focused on the vibrant paintings that brought some life into the bleak halls. However, among the various pieces of artwork that decorated the halls, her favorite so far was the large painting of the young, arrogant man. She found that even now she felt his eyes on her. The man clouded her thoughts as she followed Tristan the remainder of the way to the dining room. When she finally returned her attention to her present situation, she saw the doors to their destination opening to them.

They entered the large room just as they had done the night before. Tristan led the way to the giant table, and Persephone was afraid for a moment that he would try to pull her chair out for her. Instead, it did so by itself. Persephone sat willingly enough, and she watched as Tristan to take a seat at the table across from her.

"What would you like to eat?" he asked her softly. "Ask for whatever you want, and I'll have it brought out to you."

"What is your favorite?" she asked before thinking of the implications of her question.

"It has been such a long time since I have eaten anything from the kitchen," Tristan began, surprised, "that I am hardly the one to ask for suggestions."

"Then have the cook make whatever comes to her mind," Persephone proposed with a shrug of her shoulders after a moment of thought. She found that if she didn't look at the great beast across from her, it was easier to pretend that she was talking to someone human.

"Hmm," he mused. "Did you hear that, Lila?" he called from his seat.

Persephone thought she heard a small sound of affirmation before Tristan waved his giant paw towards what Persephone assumed to be the kitchen door. From it rolled dinner cart with a silver covered dish on top. It moved over in silence to Persephone and she stared at the shiny dome for a while, wondering what the phantom dishes were going to do next.

"It's okay to touch the plates," he told her gently and she felt the blush rising again.

"Oh," she murmured in embarrassment, "I wasn't sure. It was placed in front of me last night." She didn't realize how rude that statement must have sounded until it was out of her mouth. A spasm of fear ran through her veins.

"I apologize. It seems Philip is a little busy at the moment."

"Who's Philip?" Persephone inquired with interest, wondering if she had heard that name before. She only knew of Laden, but she supposed Tristan must have more than one servant.

"The butler." Persephone found his simple answers to be a little annoying. She made the mistake of raising her eyes to his hairy face, and the moment her eyes met his, she looked away in fright.

"Why can't I see your servants?" she asked instead of dwelling in the shallow pool of her irritation and fear.

"They have been cursed. Please don't ask me to elaborate." Persephone was surprised at the sudden pain she heard in his voice. She took a bite of the roast beef sitting in front of her instead of asking another question.

"So," he began nervously, placing his bushy hands on the table, "how have you been enjoying your stay?"

"It has been very pleasant," she told him with a short nod of her head. She then realized that perhaps she had broken some unspoken rule by wandering through the castle alone. "I…explored the castle a bit. I hope that I haven't pushed your generosity too far."

"Nonsense, Persephone. You are the mistress of the castle. You may do as you like, and no harm will come to you as long as you stay in the castle and the gardens."

"What if I were to leave?" she asked quietly into her plate. She hoped that her question wouldn't make him angry, and she wondered why she had even asked in the first place.

"Let us not talk about that," Tristan begged in a strangely desperate voice. Persephone looked up again and was terrified by the desolate look on the creature's face. He quickly tried to push the emotion off his face, but Persephone had already seen the expression.

"Then what shall we talk about?" Her eyes flicked away from his before her brain had time to register the fear that was surging through her body.

"Do you believe in magic?" he asked her finally.

"Why do you ask?" Persephone responded.

"I don't know," Tristan told her, his voice soft.

She focused on her plate so she would not make the mistake of looking up again. "I have lived in these lands since I was born. Of course I believe in magic. It surrounds all of us."

"Yes," he muttered.

"How old are you?" Persephone asked, trying to change the subject. She didn't trust magic, and just mentioning it made her nervous. "Tristan," she added, feeling a little guilty that she shied away from his name on purpose.

"The answer to your question depends on how you qualify someone's age."

"How long have you been living here?"

"That's not quite the same thing," Tristan stated, "but I can answer your second question easier than the first."

Persephone made a small sound and waited for him to continue.

"I have been in this castle for three hundred and fifty years. I'm not exactly a young beast."

"How are you able to live that long?" Tristan was silent for a very long time, and Persephone felt the familiar fear creeping through her body again. Had she asked an inappropriate question? She didn't dare look at him, though, afraid that she might scream and run away. That wasn't anyway to repay his few acts of kindness.

"Immortality." His voice was so heavy and Persephone understood immediately that it was difficult for him to answer her questions, so she didn't ask any more. She paid more attention to her food than she ever had in her life.

"Have you finished?" he asked finally.

"I suppose so."

"Come then. There is something that I would like to show you."

The cart wheeled itself back over to Persephone's place and the plate removed itself from the table.

"Thank you, Philip," Tristan said to the air beside Persephone.

Knowing that there would be no reason for her to stay in the dining room, she stood up. She never looked back at Tristan's face. He started walking back out the door and she followed him in silence. She wondered where he was leading her, keeping the thought of being eaten as far from her mind as possible, but she didn't want to ask him another question.

He led through the halls to two very large double doors. She glanced at them before they had a chance to open themselves. She thought she noticed the same heroic man from the tapestries carved into the dark wood, but she didn't have a chance to analyze the pictures before they disappeared from her sight.

Tristan sauntered into the room, and his claws echoed more than they had in any other room. As he stepped in, the candles all lit themselves simultaneously, and Persephone knew in an instant where they were.

"A library?" she asked, amazed. She looked around slowly, trying to take it all in. There were shelves full of books reaching the high ceiling, books all over the tables and on the floor, books stacked in every corner, and, from what she could tell, he was even using a few as door stops. A tiny glimmer of pure happiness bubbled in her heart. She had never seen so many books in all her life. Even during her stay in the city, the libraries didn't even compare.

She turned to see him standing by the window, partly hidden by the dark shadows of the night. After a few moments, he took a step closer to her.

"Since you asked me last night for books, I thought maybe you would like this room."

"Like it?" she asked, breathless, "Tristan, it's…" She didn't have to remind herself to use his name.

"Yes…I thought it might be time for me to put some of these to use," he said, motioning to the books cluttering up the floor. "I can't read them, and there is no one else here that can...besides you."

"Why are you doing this for me?" she asked, really looking at him for the first time that night.

"I want you to be happy here." She thought she noticed him shrug his massive shoulders, but she couldn't tell if that was exactly what he was doing.

Instead of saying anything else, Persephone turned back to the shelves of books that lined the walls. There were thousands of books, some of which she had never head. She fought the urge to caress the old leather bound editions of some of her favorites: Romeo and Juliet, The Prince, The Divine Comedy, Canterbury Tales, The Brothers' Grimm, Percival. As she looked around, Tristan walked back to a window and stared out at the beginnings of a drizzle. He turned his head to the old grandfather clock then grumbled.

"I think I might go on to bed," Persephone announced finally, once she had gotten her fill of all the books. Tristan quickly appeared at her side. She looked at him, wishing he wouldn't come any closer. She started towards the door, wanting to escape his large body. He had been very kind so far, but that didn't excuse his terrifying persona.

Tristan reached out towards her, but she stepped back before he could touch her. "Persephone," he whispered, lowering his eyes, "there's something I need to ask you." She stood as still as possible, not really sure what she was supposed to do. He seemed to be waiting for some sort of acknowledgement.

She turned her face to him and muttered something she thought sounded like an okay.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, stepping a little closer, his too human eyes boring into hers. They were unsettling and her insides clenched at the thought of being a wife to this creature.

"No, Tristan. I won't." She ran away from him to her room, trying not to remember the misery that had haunted his eyes before she left the room while convincing herself that he wouldn't kill her for refusing him again.


	10. The Disappearance of Tristan Hugh

In those few moments, Tristan didn't see fear in Persephone's eyes. Her eyes were clear as she looked over at him. For those few seconds, he didn't feel like a beast. He couldn't feel the extra weight his heavy fur put on him. He remembered how high he held his head when he caught someone looking at him like that before he was a beast.

Now, as he stood in the library across from Persephone, he tried to figure out what she was thinking. Could she have really seen him as that prince in the picture? He doubted it, but still, that long forgotten hope flamed in his stomach. He had to look out the window to push the too prudent emotion out of his face.

He watched her, in the reflection of the glass, take in the vastness of the room, her hand almost petting the covers of a few books. He had to ask her, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"Persephone, will you marry me?" He could hear the awful growl in his voice. He saw her turn to him, the wide fear back in her eyes. He didn't quite realize what her unconcern had meant to him until he saw the monster reflected in her face. After she left, Tristan covered his eyes with a large paw and shuddered in humiliation. He went to see what books she saw.

"Bravo, sir," applauded Philip as he came in.

Tristan turned his head to the doors and smiled sadly. "Where were you during dinner?"

Philip sighed, annoyed. "Airabell dropped water, but then heard that Persephone was in the dinning room. She left the mess. I went to Jared and had him clean it."

Tristan shook his mighty head. "We should just introduce Airabell to Persephone."

"I doubt that Airabell would survive that excitement," Philip chuckled.

A pile of bedclothes came in, floating in the air. "Sir, ready for bed?" Laden asked.

Tristan stepped away from the window. "Philip, please set these six books out and set up the drawing room for reading."

"Yes, sir," Philip agreed.

Tristan felt Philip beside him, pulling the books that Tristan mentioned. Tristan walked to his room, Laden at his side. He could hear Persephone in her room, also getting ready for bed.

He began to think of what he could do to make her more comfortable. He wanted her to look at him without fear, but knew that without the truth, he would always be lying to her. Maybe he didn't have to talk to her. Maybe he could just sit with her and listen to her nervous ramblings. He smiled at the fresh memory of her one-sided conversation. He remembered her sheepish expression as she stared at the floor.

The doors opened to reveal his room furnished with the deep mahogany fittings and scarlet velvet curtains that opened to his balcony. The white of the stone outside reflected any light that shone in through the cloudy sky. His bed became too small the moment he became a beast, so he had pushed the king-sized bed to a corner of the room years ago. He had pulled off all the comforters on the seventh floor and created a makeshift bed on the ground.

Laden sat the clothes down on the chair. "Lila will be here soon with your food," she informed him quietly.

"Thank you, Laden," Tristan muttered as he walked towards his balcony.

He felt the tug of his rose as he walked pass the nightstand. He stopped and looked down at that rose that he protected with his life. Such an insignificant object, but the meaning was magnanimous.

He finally walked pass the rose and outside. He pulled a cloak off the chair and wrapped it around his shoulders. He stepped out to the railing. From there he could see the east edge of the forest. The rain, which now soaking through his clothes, had caused the temperature outside to drop dramatically, and his breath came out in puffs of steam.

Tristan heard the clanging of a food tray enter his room. He turned from the rain and looked through the pulsating curtains. Raw meat sat in the middle of a silver plate.

"There you are, sir," Lila cooed.

Tristan looked at the air by the tray. "Thank you, Lila."

The big doors opened then closed. Tristan was alone again. He hated eating raw food, but saw no other way around it. He closed his eyes and bit.

As he tore into the meat, he thought of ways to make Persephone more at home. He tried not to think of the impossibility; he knew he couldn't become more comfortable with a hideous beast if the situation was reversed. He didn't want her to flinch every time she saw him. He remembered suddenly that she went on a tour of the castle.

Tristan stopped eating and looked up at no one. He smiled and nodded to the empty air. He finished his dinner and called in Laden. He changed into his bedclothes and lay on the pile of bedspreads knowing full well that sleep probably wouldn't come for some time.

As he lay there, trying to sleep, Persephone's frighten face stared back behind his eyelids. Her sea-gray eyes peered up at him, filled with pools of unshed tears, after she voiced the refusal he knew would come. What did she think he would do, he asked himself. The answer came to his mind almost immediately. How could he kill her, though? Then what would he live for if his love were dead?

How could he have done such a nasty thing to such a woman? She was, in fact, the most endearing person he'd ever met. What had he done to her? He had frightened her to the point of tears.

Tristan's eyes flew open. The dark gray light shone through the rain. He could imagine her in her room, trying to hold on to some respectable thoughts, convincing herself that she was okay and that Tristan wouldn't find her and kill her. _He_ knew that, but he realized with a start that she didn't.

For the first time he really thought of what others saw when they looked at him: a horrible beast with fangs that glinted with each smile or 'kind' facial expression, with eyes so human that they terrified even him, long claws that made him clumsy and made his hands look like killing tools. His thick muscled arms that made him quick also made him lethally strong. Even his deep voice took on a growl like sound. Everything about him made people shutter and cry in fright.

Tristan couldn't hold in the pent up anger anymore. He wanted to tear the rose to shreds. He wanted nothing else in the world but to die or escape to some place where people didn't have to see his hideous body. He was ashamed that he had made Persephone look on him without fear. He was nothing more than a beast. Tristan felt this pain keenly and jumped up, his hard nails ripping through the downy comforters. A deep growl seeped from behind his sharp teeth.

He ran out to the balcony and jumped on the roof, releasing some shingles from their place. His legs carried him down to the back of the damned castle. He jumped from the lowest point on the roof, but it was still twenty feet down. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His undefined anger fueled him as he raced away from his fate. He knew the limit of the forest, but he didn't slow down. He felt the forest shift around him, turning to keep him in like a rat in a cage. The trees ripped at his clothes, and the twigs tore into his thickly padded paws.

The night sky lit up with a flash of lightening, looking more like a bleeding vain than a flash of light. The sky seemed to become a darker shade of black when the lighting left the sky. The rain came down in sheets made of needles. His clothes, now ripped beyond repair, drifted off Tristan.

When his anger finally stopped clouding his mind, Tristan was too weak to do anything else but to lie down. He was truly a beast now, he thought, lying in the bracken without any clothes. He growled to nothing but his fading anger. If he could stay out here, if he never had to see anyone, then he would gladly live his unending life, but he could already feel the tugging of the rose in his room. He grunted with feeble fury at the enchantress who thought it grand doing this to him. He raised his head up to the pouring rain and howled one great cry, then fell into a dream-filled slumber.

He saw Persephone sitting in the brightly lit dinning room with his parents. His father gave him a disgusted look and Tristan figured he was still in his beastly body. Even in his dreams, Tristan couldn't escape her curse. However, when Tristan looked down, he saw his thin body. He didn't have big, hairy arms. He was human. He smiled in joy with the thought that he was finally cured of his beastly appearance. The king motioned for him to sit down next to Persephone. Tristan smiled brightly over at her and watched her almost hyperventilate as the girls use to do.

"Tristan," sounded his father, "Sit down."

Tristan instantly sat down, still peeking over at Persephone. She was looking back at him with love in her eyes. He couldn't believe the pure happiness he felt when she looked at him that way. He unwillingly turned his eyes towards his mother and her hard eyes scolded him.

"Tristan, you never think of anyone else, do you?" bellowed the king as he slammed his fists down on the table.

Tristan looked over at his father. "What do you mean, sire?"

"Is this what _she_ wants?" accused his mother.

Tristan looked over at his mother. "Do you know what she wants?"

The voices of both his father and mother sounded in the great room. "Ask her!"

Tristan, afraid of them, turned to Persephone and saw her sitting completely oblivious to the prior conversation. "Persephone, what do you want?"

Persephone turned her gaze to Tristan and her wide eyes blinked. Her lips smiled and she whispered, "I want you to come back."

Tristan shook his head, "How could you want that? I am a beast."

Persephone's smile disappeared. "I see a beast because you think I see a beast," she told him firmly.

Tristan looked at her gravely. "It's not that simple."

"Please," Persephone pled, "please come back."

Her eyes filled with tears again. The tears slid down her cheeks and dripped into her lap. Tristan felt helpless as he looked at her. If he was near her, he made her cry. If he was away, he made her cry. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"Okay," Tristan nodded and he stood up. He walked towards the door, patting Persephone's brown hair as he passed her. He trod on, not certain where he was going, he only knew that he had to walk.

Tristan woke with a start. He jumped up. He shook out his fur, spraying the nearby trees with water, and ran back to the castle. The main doors opened and Tristan jumped into the castle, sliding on the marble floors.

"Oh my dear God!" exclaimed Airabell. "I found him," she called more loudly.

Voices came from every corner of the castle. Running footsteps and floating objects circled the beast. But through all the commotion, the only thing Tristan really noticed was Persephone popping her head out of her room on the second floor.

"We need some clothes," called Airabell.

Philip cried out. "Somebody get the bath ready! Let's go, get that out of here, Jared!"

Tristan stood in the brightly lit entryway, seeing only Persephone sheepishly step down the stairs. Tristan heard excited giggling on his right.

"There she is!" breathed Airabell. "Oh my."

Tristan looked over to the mop and bucket floating beside him. The mop suddenly fell down on the floor and the bucket splashed down by the mop. Airabell retrieved the mop and bucket hastily.

Persephone came to stand about three feet away from Tristan and opened her mouth to say something. Laden, to Tristan's slight annoyance, beat her to it.

"Where have you been?" she cried, "I know we're servants, but a little heads up would have been nice. Think of the panic you've set on Philip!"

"Laden," Tristan said calmly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Well," Laden said in a voice so shrill that Tristan could almost imagine her flipping her hair, "I don't think you should worry so much about me as Philip. He had Adam serve Persephone."

The mop and bucket beside Tristan clattered to the ground forcefully again. "Why?" cried Airabell, "I'm more capable of buttling than a _gardener_!"

"Sir," Philip called from somewhere up above the first floor, "Your bath."

"You!" cried Airabell in the direction of Philip, "We need to have a talk!"

Tristan got up and started to walk, and as he passed a shocked Persephone, he said, "I'm sorry if I frighten you this morning. I sincerely hope I haven't ruined this beautiful day for you."

After many years of practicing courtesy with his servants, this came naturally.


	11. The Change in Persephone Reede

She locked the door behind her, knowing full well that it wouldn't stop the beast if he really wanted to kill her. She shuddered at the thought of his immense paws ripping her limb from limb, and try as she might, she couldn't get the image of his fangs dripping with her blood out of her mind. Her knees were shaking awfully as she made her way over to the giant bed where Laden had already laid out a nightgown. For one whole minute, Persephone stood, gripping the hem of the dress, while she allowed the paroxysms of fear take her. This time she held on to her consciousness, and soon the convulsions slowed and stopped.

She wondered if Tristan planned to ask her the same question every night. If he didn't eat her tonight, that is. She wondered how many times she had to deny him before he forced her to become his wife. As she changed, she thought about the implications of her refusal and her eyes began to well with tears. She wished that her father were here for advice and support.

The feel of the silk quieted her thudding heart and calmed the butterflies in her stomach. She lifted back the heavy comforter and slid between the sheets. The feel of the fine linen was much more familiar than she expected and it allowed her to clear her mind and relax. Her thoughts drifted away from the ugliness of Tristan and to his kind generosity. Had he not given her a library? Had he not called her mistress of the castle? Why should he kill her now?

She felt her face grow hot as she thought about her hypocrisy. In the city, people knew her to be humble because she saw every person who called on her. She left her books for anyone, even if he wasn't as attractive as she would've liked, and she often found that she enjoyed the time she spent with those men more than the attractive dukes from across the sea. Why should Tristan be any different from the plain city boys? Had she even thought to give him a chance?

She drifted to sleep while she decided to forget her silly fears and allow herself to see Tristan as he truly was. She was a prisoner here for the rest of her life, after all, and to spend them in fear was stupid. If it turned out that he was just as ugly inside as he was out, then she had an excuse for her terrible behavior.

She didn't quite know if she was awake or if she was dreaming when she opened her eyes again. She supposed she figured it out when she saw the young man from the painting standing by her bed, watching her with his dark eyes. Persephone gasped and sat up in the bed.

"Don't be alarmed, Persephone," the young man plead. He took a step away from her.

"H-h-how do you know my name?" she asked frantically in return. She pulled the covers close to her.

"Please, just listen to me," he begged instead of answering her question.

"Alright." Already the grogginess started to replace the initial shock of finding a man in her room.

"I am a prince," he told her, stepping back to the side of the bed. "And I am trapped in this castle. Only you can rescue me."

"How can I do that?" she asked as she rubbed her sleepy eye, "I am trapped here, as well."

"You are not as unfortunate as you may think," the strange prince told her. "You will be rewarded for your sacrifice."

"What sacrifice?" Persephone wailed dismally. "I haven't sacrificed a thing. Since the moment I walked through the large doors, I refused to treat Tristan with the kindness his hospitality deserves. Surely that doesn't justify rewards."

"You gave up you life for your father's." The young man's voice was thick and soft as velvet and Persephone fought to keep her eyes open. "And for that, here every wish of you heart will be granted. Just speak them, and they shall come to pass."

"But how can I rescue you?"

"Don't trust your eyes too much. Things are not always as they seem. Try to find me in this desolate castle for I already love you very much."

"Who are you?" Persephone asked behind a yawn. "How can I find you if I don't know who you are?"

"Trust your heart, and it will not be difficult for you to figure that out for yourself."

"Prince," Persephone whispered, "I miss my father and my sisters very much. Will I ever see them again?"

"Don't fret over the things you think you've lost. Your fate is much greater than theirs."

Persephone blinked at his words, having a little difficulty concentrating on them when his voice was so melodic, but when she opened her eyes again, the young prince was gone.

Persephone slept the rest of the night without another dream. When she awoke the next morning to streaming lavender light shining through her windows, however, the prince was the only thing on her mind. She wondered what he had meant when he told her he was a prisoner of this castle. Was Tristan holding another person captive?

The doors opened and a silver breakfast tray floated into the room.

"Oh," an invisible voice exclaimed, "I did not expect you to be up so early." The voice somehow sounded different to her.

"You don't sound like Laden," Persephone accused lightly, eyeing the polished dining plate shrewdly.

"Very good ma'am," the voice answered meekly. It was then that Persephone understood what was different. The voice wasn't feminine at all. "My name is Adam, and I am, in fact, the gardener. Laden seems to be…occupied at the moment."

"And the butler?" Persephone asked. "Is he unavailable as well?"

"Yes. In fact, the entire household staff found themselves to be rather busy last night."

"That sounds very ominous," Persephone confessed as she threw her legs over the side of the bed.

"It's nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about," Adam informed her, placing the dish on the tiny glass coffee table before the fireplace. "I am only sorry that you were not appointed a better servant this morning. I'm afraid that gardening and buttling aren't quite the same thing at all."

Persephone smiled in the general direction of her breakfast, hoping that the wind was able to see it. She stood up from the bed and sat in the large chair behind the coffee table. As she sat, the silver dome lifted itself to reveal yet another delicious meal. She reached for the hot chocolate greedily, not realizing how hungry she was, until the perfect smell reached her nose.

"Adam," Persephone began, wondering if she really wanted to ask her question, "is there someone other than Tristan, his servants and me in this castle?"

"What do you mean?" the voice asked, startled.

"It's just…I had a dream about a prince who said that he was trapped in the castle, and the strange thing is that I saw a portrait of him in a hallway yesterday."

The room was silent for a very long time. Persephone didn't touch anymore of her food as she waited for the voice to speak again. She was afraid that he was angry with her.

"It was only a dream, and you know how they are. You saw his portrait, as you said, so your mind must have recycled the memory," Adam answered finally, but his voice was off, strained.

"I should probably leave you to dress. Don't worry about the dream, Persephone. And don't trust your eyes too much."

The door opened and closed again, and Persephone felt the windy servant leave the room. She finished her meal in silence and thought about what Adam had said. She figured he was right and that it was just a dream. She hadn't put much stock in them before, why should now be any different?

There was a loud clatter from the direction of the large front doors of the castle. Startled, Persephone jumped up and began towards the door. She stopped herself, however, when she realized that she was still in her bedclothes. Tristan may have been and beast and his servants invisible, but even she had enough pride to put on acceptable clothes before leaving her room. She put on a very plain dress and stepped out of the door.

She looked down at the oversized foyer and saw Tristan's matted body crouched in the streaming light. She felt her breath catch when her mind immediately took in his gruesome pose, but she reminded herself of her decision to give Tristan a chance. She gathered all her courage and took a trembling step out of her room, giving her heart a chance to stop thudding before starting again. She made her way slowly to the white staircase and down the stairs.

She heard some disembodied voices chattering, but she couldn't tell if the words were directed to anyone in particular. The one thing she did know was that with every step, Tristan's eyes focused more on her. She pushed the obvious fear from her mind and continued to walk towards him, stopping when she was about a yard away, closer than she had ever been.

She opened her mouth to exchange pleasantries, but a familiar voice cut her off.

"Where have you been," Laden exclaimed and Persephone turned towards the voice, thinking that maybe she had done something wrong. She wanted to explain that she had just walked, well ran was probably the better term, back to her room the night before.

"Laden," Tristan sighed, "I didn't mean to worry you." Persephone couldn't help but look at the great beast in front of her as he spoke. Thankful that she wasn't the one who had upset the entire household, she wondered where Tristan had gone. She figured hunting was probably the best explanation. Suddenly all the voices were gone and Tristan turned his full attention to her.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you this morning. I sincerely hope I haven't ruined this fine day for you," he apologized sadly.

For a moment, Persephone was speechless, and she gaped at Tristan. Finally, her brain connected with the rest of her body and she dipped into a curtsey.

"Nonsense, Tristan," she murmured, as was surprised at the stillness of her voice. "I was hoping to see you this morning."

"Is there something that you needed?" Tristan asked her, and though his beastly voice was raw, she thought she heard some tender undercurrents.

"I was wondering…" she paused as she thought about what she wanted to say. She hadn't thought this far, "if…you would care to take a turn in the gardens with me?"

She dared lift her eyes to Tristan's, and saw that his were full of strong emotion. She waited very patiently for him to answer, never removing her gaze. She hoped that she could force the fear from her, as it obviously had no intention of leaving any time soon.

"I would like that very much," he told her and she smiled easily. "However, I am only concerned that you might not enjoy it as much as I would."

"If we never try, how shall we know?"

"Well, as I said before, you are mistress here, and all you must do is to request my absence, and it shall be granted."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Persephone told him gently, hoping with her whole heart that it could be true. She would try very hard to enjoy this.

* * *

**Okay, seriously guys. If you liked my story, you need to tell me. And even if you didn't like it, you can use the whole Positive-Negative-Positive strategy to soften the blow. Review!! And I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to keep posting so quickly...so I hope you've enjoyed these last couple of days.**


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